You might or might not admire my garden. There are weeds everywhere. The planters are half hidden in grass, some of them, as due to trying to finish The Book I’ve had no chance to strim it back. I fight a ceaseless and revolting war against slugs, creatures I rather like, but which are attacking everything in such numbers that mechanical means of control have become imperative. It is worse than untidy – yet, yet….
It has provided all the salad leaves I need since April. The roses are now starting to bloom (later than one might expect, due to going in late and the ravages of sheep.) The mallow is a constant haunt of many and various bees. Herbs are growing in force, and some, mint and sage and parsley, are providing useful crops. Even the courgettes are offering promise.